That Women Was Sara Sidle
by CSIsnickers101
Summary: Nick reflects on how he got to spend the rest of his life with his one and only true love… xx


That Women Was Sara Sidle

Disclaimer - I don't own CSI.

A/N: This is a short one shot told from Nick's POV. Nick reflects on how he got to spend the rest of his life with his one and only true love…

There she was, walking slowly towards me. God, I wished she'd walk faster. She smiled, I could just about see it through her veil. She looked stunning, her beautiful silk gown highlighting her elegant curves. I felt like the luckiest man on the planet. I racked my brain, wondering how I'd come to be the man she chose to marry, how I'd come to be stood at the alter next to a priest and my best man, gazing longingly at my bride-to-be, how that gorgeous women staring back had come to be mine. To be honest, I don't think I'll ever have the answer to that.

It all started many years earlier. The first time our eyes met, I knew it. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. She was amazing. She did the same job, strived to get the same justice for those who had their life cut so tragically short, or those who didn't have the fight left in them. She too had a reason, a higher calling almost, that made her feel that no matter what had happened to her she was making a difference. I was proud of her and everything she did.

At first I didn't know her that well, yet she still flirted back. Seeing her day after day, night after night, was what kept me going, kept me fighting when I didn't want to continue. I cared about her, probably too much to ever admit to anyone else but myself. I prayed she could once, just once, look at me in that way. Guess it was my lucky day.

I never asked her out, not at first. Maybe I didn't want her to reject me, maybe I didn't want to live without the nagging feeling that I'd ask her tomorrow, or the next day, maybe I didn't want to admit to anyone, not even myself, just how fond of her I really was. That kind of became my little secret. But we're all entitled to secrets every once in a blue moon, and this was mine. I loved her. I loved my co-worker and friend. This was definitely some kind of scenario out of a chick flick.

But no matter how hard I tried, no matter how many other girls I was with, who all subconsciously looked like the women I really wanted, I could never seem to get over her, never seem to forget. But how could I possibly forget? Seeing her every day reminded me why I liked her so much. The way she would purse her lips to subdue a smirk or a smile after I passed her an automatic compliment or flirted with her just because she didn't mind it. Truthfully, it was agony, just smiling and exchanging comments, watching her date other men and getting her heart broken every time. On so many occasions I had to physically leave a room so I wouldn't tell her, promise her, that I would have never hurt her like that if I was blessed with the opportunity to call her mine.

But she never wanted me. I could have gone to the end of the Earth for her but that wouldn't have been enough. She wanted someone else, someone who was blind to that fact until she threw herself at him. To say I was jealous would be the understatement since tiny atoms collided, created the big bang and then subsequently life itself. I was angry, angry that she wanted him and he clearly didn't want her back. I thought she was better than that. I also thought I was better than to be jealous. Guess I thought wrong, on both counts.

Perhaps the realisation sunk in, either in myself or her, but she stopped wanting him, or just not as obviously anyway. So, I had a new found hope. Hope, for the first time in a long time I had hope. That maybe, just maybe, I would stop being a chicken, take a deep breath and plunge into unmarked territory, dive into No-Man's Land and take the risk of naming myself the new village idiot. And what do you have, if not hope? Having the reputation of a critically acclaimed ladies man since my college days, I almost couldn't help but laugh in spite of myself at the irony of the fact I couldn't get the one women I actually wanted. Guess my reputation foresees me.

I decided to take that chance, one hot, humid, heavy day. I plucked up just enough courage to ask her out for breakfast at our local diner. That was my 'That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind' moment. At first, it wasn't necessarily intended to become anything more than just two good friends going out for breakfast together, but yes, I wanted it to go further. And it did. Soon, we were having breakfast everyday together at the diner, or lunch depending on the time of day. It was always just the two of us, that was always the best part.

Soon, things took a slightly more serious turn in events. We were casually walking back to my car so I could drive her home after we ate breakfast, our usual routine, when she caught me off guard, leaned over and kissed me on the lips. She pulled away before I could respond, looked me straight in the eye and asked, 'When we get to my apartment, would you like to come in, watch a movie or something?'. I became the happiest man on the planet at that very moment. I nodded in response, words failing to form in my mind and the ones that did would have been a bit inappropriate.

Once in her living room, getting cosy on her couch, she put a good Sci-Fi movie on and snuggled down next to me. I felt like I was dreaming. The smell of her hair, a combination of citrus and possibly lavender, was intoxicating, and the feel of her skin had much the same reaction on me. I tried so desperately hard to focus on the movie but it turned out to be physically impossible. It was then that I realised that perhaps I'd given up on the idea that this could have ever happened, that maybe I should have let her reignite her feelings for this 'someone else', and who knows, he might just have got the kick up the ass he needed.

I started to fidget in new found discomfort. I was being too forward, I knew that now. Yes, I wanted her, badly and in the worst possible way, but maybe she didn't see me like that, in that way. But then there was that kiss… I sighed in confusion as I began to doubt my own feelings. Was it mere jealousy this whole time? Did I just want to prove something to someone? Or was I actually, completely, unconditionally, in love for the first time?

Right, it was now or never. It was time to test the waters, for not only to see where we stood with each other but how we felt for each other. I called out her name softly, she turned to me with a welcoming smile on her face and before she had the chance to say anything I kissed her, like she had done to me just hours earlier. I felt an instant spark. Cheesy, I know. But nevertheless, I felt one, with a hint of passion, hunger and lust thrown in. She responded to my kiss accordingly, and certainly didn't waste anytime allowing me to come crashing down on her as the titles on the movie rolled up and disappeared. Then she couldn't push me off of her fast enough. I panicked, I'd overstepped the mark, crossed too many boundaries. But she reassured me all was well by taking me to her bedroom and closing the door.

Things changed after that. We no longer seemed to spend half our time in the diner, more at each others apartments if we'd slept over or if we were going to. It was crazy, borderline insane, what we were doing behind everyone's back but we couldn't have cared less, if we were being honest with ourselves. We enjoyed the sneaking around and all the secrecy, it made it all the more magical. It's not like we kept it a secret on purpose, well, maybe we did, but we weren't quite willing to risk everything on a relationship we were still in the process of working out.

One day, she looked at me from across the diner table, and smiled. We were deep in conversation, without a care in the world. For just a minute, the chaos of the Las Vegas streets didn't effect us. It was us against the world, like it had been for months. Our so called 'CSI co-workers' were still none-the-wiser. We wouldn't have lied if they had come out and asked us, but because they didn't we assumed we were actually better at our job than we thought, and better off having a secret.

I stopped blaming luck for where our relationship was heading. It became very apparent luck was merely a third wheel. I was falling more in love with her as each and every day passed. I just knew that I'd finally found the one women who got me, who understood me, who could except my flaws and ultimately never want to change me. And I loved her for it. We complimented each other with what we did and how we did it. Neither of us were at all scared we were going to fast. I definitely didn't mind, and as far as I could tell, she didn't either.

The time came when I knew I was certain about us and our relationship. I wanted to propose to her. I had picked the most perfect ring she had been subtly hinting at for weeks. However, she was about as subtle as a gun. It had been playing on my mind the second the ring had become a permanent fixture in my locker. There it sat, everyday, just waiting for me to find the right moment to spring the ring at her. And that day came, thankfully. I walked into the break room. I was tired of waiting. I wanted her to know just how much I loved her, how much she meant to me, and if everyone else found out at the same time, so be it. This was going to be no time for beating around the bush, I had to take that dreaded plunge again, but for a different reason.

She was soulfully laughing with the rest of our team, minus that 'someone else', as I walked in. She glanced up at me for a moment before returning her attention to the coffee cup in her hand. She almost seemed embarrassed. But I knew she wasn't, not of us anyway. I took one last deep breath, not like I was never going to breathe again but perhaps the next time I did she would be my fiancée. 'Okay, here goes,' I thought 6 times before actually lowering myself to the ground on one knee.

She looked at me like I was doing something completely foreign and unheard of. I was merely asking to spend the rest of my life of with her and that she do me the honour of becoming my wife, something that wasn't at all a new tradition. It goes back centuries, that a man should produce a ring, generally a big diamond one, to symbolise his love for the women he is asking to marry, and hope that she will say yes.

Perhaps what was untraditional about the whole affair was the look of pure shock and possibly anger on the faces of people that were surrounding us. At first, I'd forgotten they were even there, encased myself in a sort of bubble to block out anything but my thoughts of the women I loved. But then I saw their expressions. Maybe it was a bad idea to just walk up to her in the middle of the break room and propose. Maybe 'maybe' was an understatement.

I sighed and stood up, wanting so desperately to do nothing else but crawl under the carpet and stay there for the rest of my life. She wouldn't look me in the eyes, no matter how hard I tried to look at her. Grissom, Warrick, Catherine and Greg were among the bewildered bystanders.

"Well, that was a bad idea," I mumbled under my breath. "Way to go, Stokes."

I went to walk away, far away, when she finally looked up at me. We locked eyes, hers full of apoplectic sadness. I must have thought we were something completely different than what she'd thought. I loved her. I hadn't even tried to but I couldn't help it. She was amazingly perfect in everyway, and she never believed me when I told her. I thought I was going to finally be able to shut my mother up about how much she wanted me to settle down and add a couple more grandchildren to the list. I thought I would finally be able to make that call, tell her I was happy, tell her I was settling down and would one day tell her she had another grandchild on the way. A child of my own…

"Just say yes," Catherine insisted.

"Isn't that the name of a Snow Patrol song?" she smiled sheepishly.

"Come on!" Greg snapped.

"Say yes already," Warrick rolled his eyes.

"Fine then," she smiled. "Yes, yes I'll marry you. I can't believe you'd ever think I wouldn't."

"I don't want you to feel like you were forced or any…," I was interrupted by her lips connecting with mine as she pulled me into a long, slow kiss. "…thing."

She hugged me as I slipped the engagement ring onto her ring finger. She whispered into my ear as I tightly held onto her. "So you're ready to settle down, huh? Would it be too much to add a baby to the mix?"

I hit the floor, quite literally. Apparently it's more commonly known as fainting. Warrick will forever tease me about that. But I don't care. She was pregnant. I was shocked. And everyone else was happy. It was a dream. I could have sworn my life on that belief if I weren't enjoying the sight of my 4 months pregnant fiancée edging closer to me.

The next few months of wedding preparation was insanely rushed. We wanted to get married before she became too pregnant to move, not only because being married before you had children was traditional or according to everyone I knew an ethical belief of mine, but we actually didn't want to wait any longer than was necessary. We lived in Vegas for God's sake, we could have eloped if we wanted. We did think about that, I'll be honest, but it never came of anything because of her continuing to quote me, "That's not what a wedding is. It's a public declaration of love." And so it would be for our wedding day.

"Do you, Nick Stokes, take this women to be your lawfully wedded wife?" asked the priest.

Was that a trick question? Of course I do! We wouldn't have gone to all that effort if I didn't. Stupid man. But he had to ask. And I had to answer.

"I do," I smiled.

That was it. We were officially official. I couldn't have been any happier if I tried. I was officially married to the one and only women I loved, the women who completely completed me, the women who understood me more than anyone.

Sure, over the years I'd had my fair share of relationships. I won't lie. That was slightly over exaggerated as the years went by. But no amount of 'other girls' could and would ever let me forget that smile, that laugh, that person. Beneath all the hate and pain she was beautiful, inside and out. And maybe one day, just one, she'll actually listen to me when I tell her that.

There was only ever one women for me. And that women was Sara Sidle.

Thank you for reading. What did you think? Sorry for all the she's but I hope you got what I was trying to do, although most of you would have worked it out anyway, the title was a slight give away. Review please.


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